


Impact

by spacehopper



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Consensual Sex After Being Raped, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Rape Recovery, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Nothing about the mission goes according to plan.





	Impact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masu_Trout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/gifts).



The mission was fucked from the start. 

Bad intel, and it seemed like that was happening more and more lately. Just a minor terrorist cell, a handful of anti-corporate extremist, easy enough to take out with one infiltration expert and a sniper. And Mac and most of his team were laid up after London. So he’d gone with Jensen, despite Mac’s pointed remark that he wasn’t doing too hot himself. Didn’t matter, he’d thought. Jensen would be doing most of the work. He was just there for backup.

But the layout was nothing like they’d been told, and seemed intentionally designed to fool Jensen’s Wayfinder aug. They’d finally made it to a deserted office with a single computer, and after Jensen made short work of the security, they found out what they were really facing. Not terrorists, no. Criminals dealing in human trafficking, the worst sorts of thugs. And Jensen couldn’t just let that go. Hell, Jim wouldn’t admire him so much if he had. 

But they’d been ready for him.

His mind kept catching on that thought, as his hands were bound with zip ties and he was shoved into a chair. They’d known exactly how to handle Jensen, had the EMP fields in place and some sort of gas that got past his augs. And sure, it could just be a precaution, but why? Few people had Jensen’s level of augmentation, and it made no damn sense to be ready for it.

It killed him to admit it, but maybe Chang was right. They might have a serous leak on their hands, and that shit wasn’t what he wanted to deal with only months before retirement. 

“You sure you wanna keep him in here, boss?” An American, by the sound of it. Quite the international operation. And that told him it wasn’t Dvali. Another group encroaching on Dvali territory meant this was becoming more of a headache by the moment. 

“Yes, I find that it can be most persuasive.” The boss, presumably, who sounded so much the stereotypical posh Brit that Jim swore he had to be faking. “We’ll be leaving now, but feel free to take your time.” Then there was the sound of stumbling footsteps, and Jensen was dragged into the room.

He looked terrible, face contorted in pain, tactical vest gone and leaving him in a thin undershirt and pants. The sick bastards had put some sort of collar around his neck with two poles attached to it, shoving him into the room while keeping a safe distance. First smart thing they’d done, as much as Jim hated them for it. They forced him to his knees, and another man sauntered in behind them. From the way he was dressed, he had to be the American, not the boss. Made sense. That type didn’t like to get their hands dirty. 

“So, TF29.” He reached into his pocket and threw an ID on the floor. Jensen’s, of course. He had to carry it. “And you’re the boss.” He rested a hand on Jensen’s head while looking at Jim, and hot anger flared in his chest.

“Yeah, I’m the boss.” He met Jensen’s eyes. The shields were down, making it even clearer he was in pain, despite the lack of visible wounds. Could mean something internal, but Jim thought his augs would’ve taken care of that. 

“So, boss.” The way he said the word made Jim want to spit. “What exactly did you expect to find here?”

“Bunch of wannabe crime lords,” Jensen said before Jim could get word in edgewise. “Looks like we succeeded.”

The man’s face twisted into a mockery of a smile.

“You should keep you dog under control, boss,” he said, turning his back on Jim and walking over to Jensen. “Unless he’s more of a pet.” He ran his hand over Adam’s hair, and Jim strained against his bonds.

“Don’t touch him,” he said, and regretted it immediately. He’d been torn down my multiple commanders for being hot-headed, but he thought he’d long grown out of it. But this—

“So he is a pet, then.” He drew a finger down Adam’s cheek, lingering briefly on his lips, before moving to fondle the exposed augmentation along his neck. “No, not even a pet. Just a tool.“ Adam turned his head, face contorting with disgust, and the American laughed. “Is he any good?”

“Fuck off.” Not what he should’ve said, damn it. But Adam always threw him off. Bile rose in his throat as the man pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open, then began cutting through Adam’s undershirt. A thin red line rose along his chest, not deep but clearly intentional. He watched every excruciating second of it. He wouldn’t flinch away. Not when Adam couldn’t.

The shirt lay in tatters, and the man ran a hand down Adam’s sculpted chest, chuckling at the indrawn hiss of breath. 

“Ah, real top of the line construction, this tool. Why don’t I give him a try?”

For a moment, Jim couldn’t quite believe it was happening. The man began to unzip his pants. The guards didn’t even blink, so this had to normal procedure for him. 

“Does your boss know you like to sample the merchandise?” It was the same smart mouth Jim had seen Adam use on Macready, various Prague police officers, and even himself on occasion. A way of fighting back, when there was nothing else he could do. He wished Adam could’ve kept it under control for once.

“Bit defective, isn’t he? Doesn’t the noise bother you?” He nodded at Jim. Then he turned to Adam, gripping his hair and giving him a shake. “You better not malfunction on me. Or I might just have to put your boss out of his misery.”

He unholstered his pistol, flicking off the safety and holding it loosely in his hand.

“Now be good and open that mouth for me, and maybe I’ll give you a nice oil bath.” 

Jim could only see his back, but it was enough to give him a clear picture of what was about to happen. He twirled the gun in his hand, the other clearly holding his cock, and twisted his head over his shoulder to grin at Jim.

“We’ll see well programmed he is.”

“You’re sick,” he said as the man turned back to Adam and began to move in a way that made his stomach roil.

“You’re the one who’s sick, not taking your chance with this sweet mouth.” He let out a shuddering breath, and Jim got a brief glance of him tightening his fingers in Adam’s hair. “Oh, that’s nice.”

And in that moment, Adam met his eyes, and Jim knew what he had to do.

He had to keep a line of sight on what was happening, all while trying to shove down his disgust. If anything happened to draw attention back to him, he had to be ready. He began to work at the ties on his wrists, loose enough that given time he might be able to get free. And the idiots had missed the knife he kept in his boot. 

As he slipped them off inch by painful inch, he listened to the grunts of the American, his thrust getting more erratic. One of the thugs was clearly bored, staring blankly at a clock on the far wall. The other was watching with rapt attention. Jim slipped his hands out, ignoring the dampness for now and going for his knife. 

“You—ah,” the American said to the interested thug, “you can have a go next. My present to you for your invaluable service, trying this baby out.” The way he talked, it was like Adam was some new car he’d bought, that he was showing off to all his friends. And maybe to this vile excuse for a human being, he was. Something to be bought and sold and used.

He’d had enough.

Jim didn’t say anything. Too much was on the line, and even surprised, three against one with just knife was going to be tricky. As much as he wanted to run the American through, he avoided him for now. He was distracted, and should be slow to the draw. No, it was the bored thug he had to deal with, before he realized Jim had gotten free. With a slash of the knife, he slit the man’s throat and grabbed his pistol, ignoring the clang of the pole as it hit the ground. He pivoted, shooting the other thug in the head at point blank range. Then he turned to the American.

He shouldn’t have bothered.

No longer restrained, Adam surged to his feet and slammed the man in the face with all the considerable force his augmented arms were capable of, far more than he typically used. The man flew across the room, ramming into the far wall with a crunch. Adam just stood there, staring at him, still bleeding slightly from his chest. Like he didn’t know what else to do.

Jim scanned the room, spotting a bottle of water sitting on a rickety table in one corner. It was half drunk and who knew how old, but it’d have to do. He scooped it up and crossed the room, handing it to Adam. He took it robotically. No, not robotically. Like a man lost at sea, struggling for something, anything to hold onto. After a moment’s hesitation, Jim rested a hand on Adam’s shoulder. Adam leaned into the touch.

His movements were graceful as he took a drink, swished the water around his mouth, and spit. Then he turned to Jim, his face carefully blank but his eyes not hiding anything. But it wasn’t pain he saw. It was resignation, the look of a dog beaten down so many times it doesn’t know how to do anything but survive. 

Maybe that was why he did it.

Taking a furtive step closer, he put his other hand on Adam’s cheek, beard bristling under his fingertips. Adam reached up to hold his wrist, but didn’t pull away. If anything, it felt like he was keeping Jim there, desperate for the contact.

“Why did you do that?” The words were more accusatory than he’d intended, but he couldn’t take them back now. And he needed to know. 

“Didn’t have a choice.” Adam was being purposefully evasive, dodging the question like gunfire.

“You knew what you were doing, even if you didn’t know it’d be—that—” Even now, he couldn’t say it. “—you knew it’d make him focus on you.” 

“Better me than you, sir. I can take care of myself.” His hand tightened on Jim’s wrist. “And maybe I just don’t like people I care about getting hurt.

“You ever consider I might feel the same way?” They both knew what it meant. They were so close now that Jim could feel the unnatural heat radiating from Adam, catch the stale smell of sweat, trace the fine lines on his face with his eyes. 

“Let me make my own decisions,” Adam said, then closed the remaining gap between them. The kiss was confident, almost assured, but the hand that he drifted to the small of Jim’s back was not. It didn’t tremble. Jim wasn’t sure Adam could, a thousand systems making sure there would be no flaw in his aim, his killing precision. But the way it hovered there told him Adam wasn’t sure of his welcome.

And he didn’t know what to do. So he did the stupidest possible thing, and kissed back. 

As his tongue nudged its way into Adam’s mouth, Adam suddenly clutched his shirt, a painful, needy noise escaping from his throat. And he knew this was wrong, knew it was fucked up, to be kissing him so soon after some vile bastard had forced himself on Adam. But he couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t handle one more second of seeing that dead look in Adam’s eyes.

He found himself stumbling backwards, hitting the wall with Adam’s palm against his chest, the look in his eyes almost wild as he began to fumble with Jim’s pants. Fuck, he was hard. He met those bright, green-gold eyes as Adam yanked the zipper down, pushing the fabric aside.

Then he saw another grimace of pain.

“Agent.” Cold, abrupt, distant. But some things were more important than sex, and whatever else had grown between them. “Are you injured?”

Adam’s hand gripped his shirt, and he leaned in, burying his face in the crook of Jim’s neck, breathing hard against his skin. He was close enough now he could feel Adam’s own erection pressing against his thigh. 

“Control chip.” His fingers tightened their hold on Jim’s shirt. “Causes pain when I use my augs.”

“Fuck.” Jim began to stroke Adam’s hair, soft and slightly wet against his skin. That had to be almost everything he did, his heart, his lungs, his limbs. Too many for Jim to count. “Look, Adam—”

He lifted his head and shook it. “Nothing we can do here.” He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath. “I can take it. Please.”

And then Adam smiled, and the white hot rage from earlier banked. He needed this, to help Adam, to protect him when he could, to comfort him when he couldn’t. To be one of the few people in the world not hellbent on tearing him to pieces. 

He’d always been a man of action. So instead of saying anything else, he urged Adam closer with a hand on his back, grinding up against him. But he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and this wasn’t enough. Adam clearly agreed, pulling back to finish his work on Jim’s pants while he dealt with Adam’s. Then Adam’s hand wrapped around their cocks, and Jim couldn’t quite bite back a moan.

“If this was all it took to get you to stop chewing me out, I would’ve tried it sooner.” The usual snark, slightly breathless. Trying to establish normality. Jim could play along with that.

“Insubordinate as always.” His words were cut off with a gasp as Adam ran a hard metal finger down the side of his cock. “I should’ve chewed you out more.”

Adam leaned in, mouth brushing the sensitive skin under Jim’s ear, murmuring, “I can still arrange that.” Then he twisted his hand just right, and Jim’s head thunked against the wall. That’d leave a bruise, but he couldn’t give a damn anymore. He reached for Jensen’s arse, digging his fingers into it, a strange mix of firm and yielding where his augmented legs terminated. It was the best thing he’d felt in what seemed like years. Adam ground against him harder, his hand crushed between them. Jim bet it didn’t cramp. Augmentation was useful like that.

“Fuck,” Adam said, and gave Jim another desperate kiss, teeth clipping his lips and tongue following, soothing the ache. He felt something hot spurt onto his cock, and Adam sagged against him for a moment.

He’d have been happy with just that, Adam warm and solid and _safe_ in his arms. But then Adam began his rhythm again, hand wrapped fully around Jim’s cock now, slow and precise and just the perfect amount of pressure. He was close, so close. He ran his fingers through Adam’s hair, and their lips met again, sweet and short. Then he came, shuddering through what had to be the best orgasm he’d had in ages, Adam’s name on his lips.

Seconds passed. His legs were cramping, just this side of painful. He wasn’t young enough for wall sex anymore, and he sure as hell wasn’t augmented to take it. So he slid to the floor, leaning against the wall, and after a brief hesitation, Adam followed, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched.

“Thank you,” Adam said. Jim turned to look at him, and found him staring across the room at the dead thugs, something like regret in his eyes. Anger warred with sadness in his chest, and he reached out to grab Adam’s hand. 

“Fuckers deserved it.” His fingers tightened around Adam’s, and he felt the squeeze in return. Everything about this mission had been fucked. But as he brought Adam’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against his knuckles, he thought that maybe this was one thing he could make right.


End file.
